Running Home

a poem of growing up in a small town.

I was raised in a small town,
racing down a dirt road,
trying to beat the street lights home,
Mama’d always be waiting by the porch light
yellin’ that dinner was on the table,
that was when she’d see

A little blond girl and a scraped up knee,
leaves in her hair, from climbing up trees,
Dirt on her face but not in her soul,
she knew where she was, and what made her whole
it was running home

On the edge of eighteen on a hot summer night,
in the back of his car, his hand in mine,
he promised forever, I promised him me,
never been more alive, never felt more free

A young girl in love, blond hair flowing free,
wind in her face in the passengers seat,
That summer of love so intense and so sweet,
She knew who she was and what made her whole,
it was young summer love, and running home

As the seasons changed, so did she,
now she’s a mother to a sweet little girl
out playing in the yard all ribbons and curls,
looking at her daughter she knows what she’ll see

A little blond girl with a scraped up knee,
leaves in her hair from climbing up trees,
dirt on her face, but not in her soul,
it won’t matter where she is, she can always run home.

Author's Note

This is a first draft but I welcome your reviews!

Reviews

[Isabella Ivy]

This is a very tender piece, enjoyable, wholesome, relatable, and the end repetition is perfection :) It felt a bit scattered at the start but well put together at the end. If your going to rework it, that's the direction I would take. Sweet poem Callie :) I.I.

[Jeffrey]

I've missed reading you!!! I'm so glad you're back!!!

I love the story you're telling. Clear pictures and seeing the good in the world repeating in the next generation. These are a few of my favorite things! I also enjoyed that you wrote in the style of speech of your hometown! It added that extra layer of authenticity.

Well done and thank you for sharing!!! I look forward to reading more!!!